A Maverick's Christmas Homecoming. Teresa Southwick
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that was her chronic problem, Gianna thought. If the relationship status wasn’t spelled out, she went straight to hope. That meant she’d made no progress in breaking her bad habit of being a hopelessly romantic fool who wasted time on the wrong men.
“Anyway, that’s the scoop.” She angled her head toward the swinging doors. “I have to get back to work.”
“Me, too.” Bonnie gave her a sympathetic look. “I’ve got your back.”
“Thanks.”
Gianna put her shoulder to one of the kitchen’s swinging doors, then opened it and walked into the quiet and elegant world where special service was the key to success. A beautiful setting during any season, The Gallatin Room was even more so, decorated for Christmas. A ten-foot tree with white lights, red, green and gold ornaments and shiny garland stood in the corner. All the tables had red poinsettias in the center on white linen tablecloths.
Now that Gianna had seen the view from Roarke’s penthouse apartment, she knew this restaurant wasn’t the most romantic place in Thunder Canyon, but she’d put it very high on the list. This was a weeknight but the place was nearly full, and that happened when you served the best food in town. That’s what the two women at her table were after. Gianna had chatted them up while delivering menus and found out they were having a girls’ long ski weekend.
She put the breadbasket on the table, then looked at the beautiful blonde and equally pretty brunette, both in their late twenties. “Have you decided or do you need another few minutes to look over the menu?”
“Too many tempting choices,” the blonde said. “Do you know what you’re having, Miranda?”
“I should go with salmon.” She frowned, but her face didn’t move. “But Shane’s filet with that yummy sauce is to die for.”
Gianna didn’t recognize either woman and she had a good memory for faces. “So you’ve been here before?”
“Not here.” Miranda shook her head. “But I’ve been to Roarke’s in New York. Daisy and I do a winter ski trip every year and have been talking about trying the slopes in Thunder Canyon for a while. But we always decided on somewhere easier to get to that had restaurants with a reputation. Then we heard Shane Roarke was the chef here.”
“He definitely is.”
“Miranda says this menu is different from the one in New York,” Daisy said.
“He’s tailored his signature recipes specifically for The Gallatin Room. I can tell you that every one is fantastic.”
“What’s your favorite?” Daisy asked.
The chicken he’d made for her at his place. But that wasn’t for public consumption yet. She smiled at the two women and hoped it was friendly because that’s not the way she felt.
“It would be easier to tell you what’s not my favorite. If you’re in the mood for beef, the filet is excellent, practically melts in your mouth. And the sauce only enhances the flavor. I’m not a fan of lamb, but people who are rave about it here. The stuffed, grilled salmon is wonderful. And a little lighter, which would leave room for dessert.”
“Tell me the chocolate, sky-high cake I had in New York is a choice.”
“I don’t know if it’s the same, but there is one that will tempt you to lick crumbs off the plate.”
“That does it.” Miranda smiled in rapture. “Shane’s desserts are the best. I’ll have the salmon. Tell me about The Gallatin salad.”
“It’s greens with avocado, tomato and goat cheese in a very delicate dressing. So delicious you won’t believe it’s good for you.”
“You talked me into it.”
“Make it two,” Daisy said. “And a bottle of the Napa Valley Chardonnay.”
“Excellent choice.” Gianna smiled at the two women. “On behalf of Thunder Canyon Resort and The Gallatin Room, I’ll do everything possible to give you a perfect dining experience. If there’s anything you’d like, just let me know. It’s our goal to make this your ski vacation destination every year.”
“Shane being the chef here made the difference in our choice this time,” Miranda said.
“He’s really something.” Just what, Gianna wasn’t sure.
“Is he by any chance here now?” Miranda asked.
“Every night.”
“I’d love to say hello again.” She looked at her friend. “And Daisy has never met him.”
“I’ve certainly heard a lot about him,” the blonde said. “Do you think he would come by the table?”
“I can ask.” And that would give her an excuse to talk to him. “Although he’s pretty busy.”
“I understand. I’m not sure he’ll remember me, but my name is Miranda Baldwin.”
Gianna walked back to the kitchen and her heart was pounding at the thought of talking to Shane. Maybe it would break the ice. Give him a chance to say he’d just been too busy, up to his eyeballs in alligators what with Christmas parties and planning menu changes to shake things up with new dishes in January. It was a slim hope, but hope was something and a hard habit for her to break.
She went through the swinging doors into the kitchen and saw Shane directing the sous-chef. He shifted to the cutting board on the stainless-steel table across from the stove.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked, moving beside him.
“What is it?” There was no anger or irritation in his tone. In fact there was no emotion at all, which was worse.
If only the world would open now and swallow her whole. Gianna felt her hope balloon deflate. His non-reaction made it unlikely that he would mention their dinner or anything about spending time with her. It was like nothing had ever happened. Situational amnesia. If he wasn’t going to bring up the subject, neither would she.
“There’s a Miranda Baldwin in the dining room who says she knows you from New York and wondered if she could say hello. I told her you might be too busy—”
“I can do that.” He started toward the door and said over his shoulder, “Thanks.”
“For nothing,” she whispered under her breath.
In every serious relationship she’d had, the guy had strung her along and when it was time to fish or cut bait, she got cut. But Shane couldn’t get away from her fast enough, which was a first. Apparently bad dating karma had followed her from New York and mutated.
Clearly he wasn’t into her. Since she wasn’t into wasting any more time, that should make her happy. Somehow it didn’t.
Shane pushed through the double doors into the dining room and left Gianna behind in the kitchen with the hurt he’d caused evident in her eyes. She probably thought he was crazy and who could blame her? Certainly not him. He’d invited her to dinner, then stood with her looking at the night sky and wanting to kiss her more than he wanted his next breath. Every day since then he’d fought the urge to tug her into a secluded corner and see if her lips tasted as good as he imagined. There were times he wished he was as good with words as he was with food and this was one of those times.
He liked her, really liked her. The attraction was stronger than he’d felt in a very long time, maybe ever. He was still coming to terms with the truth about his father’s identity so, for Gianna’s sake, he wouldn’t start something that he could really mess up. Cooling things was for the best and judging by the look on her face when he’d left the kitchen so abruptly, he’d done an exceptional job of it. The depth of emotion he’d seen proved that even though it would be temporary, she could get hurt and he wouldn’t do that to her.
Looking over the bustling dining room a sense of satisfaction came over him. Revenue